It's half an hour's walk to Henry and Amelia's flat. You wanted an Uber but she wants to walk. The breeze is cool, a quiet night and quieter still with her silence. You try and keep rhythm with her steps. She notices things out of place. It draws her attention. If, god help you, you hesitate where she walks on, or walk on whilst she waits, then you are an impotent coward or a witless fool

At Henry and Amelia's there will be the usual chat and wine. But you will take care not to get drunk because each word you say will be examined. The tone and shift of every syllable. Meaning drawn from them, torn from them, and fashioned into weapons of war. When she has you away from the world again

You look at her without looking. You don't want to look at her because she probably won't do or say anything, but she might. A look can ignite a stream of violence that will last until she tires of it. So you look without looking. The strong cheekbones and full lips, the bright eyes and graceful neck. Her face has so much life, it is no wonder you fell in love

Such a pity she is a monster

"Why did you say that?", she would ask. Not why you thought her a monster. You made a throwaway remark about a colleague or a film or something you had bought. And instead you find yourself in a war-zone.

"Don't say that about Kathy, she's a good colleague, you're completely out of order, you are a crass idiot. Sort. Yourself. Out."

It's no use protesting or trying to reason. She enjoys this and you...

You are being surgically separated from your soul

Just before your birthday, you spoke about going out for a meal. If the Thai on Rockingham would be better than the Italian down by the Town Hall. And at the restaurant, you had chosen the Italian, after you had a glass of wine and enjoyed the starter of olives and bread, she says

"Why did you say that?"

You say "say what?" and you are smiling because her serious face must be a play. She likes playing and you liked that about her. That confidence. That strength. And she says "you said the waiters at the Thai restaurant are over attentive. They are not over-attentive, they are being polite. It's good service."

You make some weak argument but she is picking at another sentence and another. It is as if she recorded your every word and one by one they are being dismembered. Her soft voice worrying at them, shaking them till whatever meaning she chooses falls out

If the waiters heard her call you a 'fucking witless fool' then they didn't comment. They didn't come as you looked round desperately for help, or help when the world seemed to be falling and falling. You don't know why you didn't leave then. Or the next time she did it. Or the next.

Slowly you stop talking unless it is something she wants to hear. Agreement. Compliments. Subservience. And because every word you say is on record. Because word stored for the next time. Mostly you give her silence

"How do I look?", she turns to you. The lights of the flats reflecting in her eyes. And then...

"Beautiful, you are very beautiful". You mean it. She is. What an honour to be the favourite of a beautiful monster. What use are words compared to that? What use a soul? Tonight you will do well. Tonight you will do better. And you lead her up to the dinner party